𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 // 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

Rosy Euphoria

-Rosy Euphoria-

AN: I thought you guys deserved a little bit of a lighter filler chapter, so here you go, readers! This is written more like a collection of connected oneshots, in chronological order. Enjoy :)

Dream's POV:

That night after we went to the bridge, George had changed.

It was a subtle shift at first, merely a trick of the light from certain angles. Then it was a tidal wave, his entire self overturning and flipping to a side so long-gone I'd forgotten about it. Gone was the distant, idling friend whose mental state was more fragile than a strand in a cobweb. He'd become just like he was before. Before everything. He'd gone back to being lively, comedic, focused and fun. Exactly the person he tried to be when I met him.

Tried.

I could still see glimpses of a man quieter than the vivacious, dramatic personality he'd invented for people's entertainment. The truth seeping between the cracks and gaps in the hands he'd hastily covered his face with. The truth that shone through the slips and flaws of his demeanor.

But I didn't care if he was livelier than he truly was. George was still happy. I could see the light in his eyes and the radiance in his smile, and that was all I wanted. All I wanted was for him to be happy. And now that he was, I couldn't help but see how perfect he really was.

Every second only drew me deeper into the pits of love. I'd been navigating them like minefields, every step of my foot flinching at the possibility of a land mine. But I hadn't been walking through the minefields in a while. I'd been falling. Falling deeper and deeper in love.

Sometimes I wondered how long it would take for me to hit rock bottom.

"We should stream and answer some questions." George took a sip of apple juice and sighed. "The fans are in shambles. Might as well fix that." I absently noticed that he didn't eat any breakfast, and that he'd only poured himself the one glass of juice. Slow metabolism, maybe.

Nodding, I ran a hand through my hair. "Good idea. We give them a chance to ask questions and get answers from us, so they can stop starting hashtags on Twitter." I chuckled at the thought of more concerned hashtags topping the Trending page. We watched our fandom lose their minds with our absence through a glass partition, observing from afar.

"I shudder to think of the poor person who has to transcript, look into and give a description of all those hashtags." George grinned.

My smile was wry. "I think they have to hire a new guy each week."

"And all those fired guys would probably kill us in cold blood to make sure nobody has to suffer like they do. You know, to put an end to our fandom's hashtag bullshit." George grinned and pulled out his phone, swiping to the Trending page.

"Checking for we miss you hashtags?" I teased, leaning over his shoulder to peek at his phone. George swatted at me.

"Shoo. No Peeping Toms."

"Touchy, are we? What are you looking at, a secret girlfriend?" The words were meant to be teasing, but I didn't mean it as a joke.

I felt something in me freeze over when I thought about George texting somebody else every night, seeing him say those three words so someone else, watching as he was torn farther and farther from me by someone who had stolen his I love yous and late night messages. My hand twitched into a fist at the thought of George loving somebody else. I smiled with tight, closed lips and peered back at his screen, my curiosity sharp-edged.

It was almost shameful to say that I was relieved when I saw the familiar landscape of the trending page on his screen.

"Yes. Duh, I'm checking for hashtags!" George sighed. "What did you think, that I somehow snagged a girlfriend between being depressed and being more depressed?" His words were sardonic.